


my name is...

by seungwanderlust



Category: Desire & Decorum (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/F, importing fics from tumblr, this is during the Duke's Ball
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:28:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25436179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seungwanderlust/pseuds/seungwanderlust
Summary: Theresa Sutton is alone outside at the Duke's Ball, because Mr. Marlcaster just broke off their engagement. She is joined by the woman responsible.
Relationships: Briar Daly/Theresa Sutton
Kudos: 1





	my name is...

**Author's Note:**

> A oneshot from more than a year ago. I'm uploading them here for organization. Please enjoy.

Theresa Sutton sat alone on the steps of the banquet hall leading to the garden outside Karlington estate. Her lemon yellow dress had hiked up to her calves (which would be extremely scandalous in normal circumstances), but at the moment, she found that she couldn’t care less — not when Mr. Marlcaster, her (ex) fiancé, had just called off their engagement.

A particularly unladylike groan escapes from her throat. _And he did it in public, no less!_

So give her a bloody moment’s rest if she wanted to wallow by herself in a rumpled, distasteful state in a corner at one of the most prominent social functions of the season. She was really, really tired.

It was about the beginning of May; the weather was getting warmer, but it was still too cold for her taste. She absently stared at the moonlight reflecting on the rippling water of the ornate fountain in the middle of the space. Crickets, owls, and other nocturnal animals could be heard in the distance, just having another typical evening.

A cold breeze blows. It sapped the warmth from her skin and prompted a quiet sneeze from the miserable woman. Theresa was so glad she decided to wear gloves today. She curled herself up into a ball, hugging her legs close to her chest and resting her forehead on her knees.

There was something comforting about the cold when you were sad. Theresa liked to think it was Mother Nature’s way of saying that she sympathised with her situation.

At least then she wouldn’t feel so alone.

“Miss Sutton?”

She jumps in response to her name, hastily wiping away her tears in hopes of looking a little less dreadful than she knew she definitely looked.

“O-oh yes! What can I do for you —”

Theresa cranes her head towards the direction of the voice coming up the steps, leading back inside to the festivities.

_“ — Miss Daly?”_ She couldn’t help but say in confusion as she scrunched her eyebrows together. What was she doing here?

“Miss Sutton,” Briar answers in return with a nod. She offered the lady a tentative smile, taking note of Miss Sutton’s current state. “I, uhm, saw you from the refreshments table,” Briar nervously smiled, carrying a glass of water. She looked hesitant, idling at the top of the stairs.

“Would you… like some company? And some water, perhaps?”

“Oh,” Theresa blinked, already feeling the tears start to burn at the back of her eyelids. _Of course_ Miss Daly was nice and kind and thoughtful.

Briar looked even more worried and decided to jump the gun. She descended from the top of the stairs to even lower from where Miss Sutton was sitting down, so that they were facing each other as she stood. She offers the cup of water, and Miss Sutton accepts it with a nod.

“Thank you, I suppose I was feeling rather parched,” Theresa quietly murmurs before daintily sipping from the cup. She offers the maid a grateful smile. “You’re very considerate, Miss Daly.”

“Just Briar’s fine. Miss Daly is my mother,” Briar sheepishly grins, fiddling with the end of her sleeve. “And I’m glad to see it helped.”

Briar settles down just by Miss Sutton’s feet. Her arm brushes by the yellow fabric of her skirt. They were close enough such that Theresa could feel the light heat of Miss Daly’s back slowly waft towards her, and gently brush the surface of her skin.

(It felt… nice, which was odd, considering their current relationship.)

The two sit in silence, digesting the reality of the situation: There they were, two women who were acquainted only because of their connection to a man — Edmund Marlcaster.

If it were anyone else, Theresa might have enjoyed the drama.

“I have to tell you that I didn’t mean to flirt with Mr. Marlcaster,” Briar starts. It was hesitant, sure, and definitely apologetic. Theresa could feel the sincerity coming off her with each word.

Miss Sutton raises a playful (and maybe slightly sarcastic) eyebrow. She could feel the corner of her lip quirk, “And how might one accidentally flirt with a man?”

The fabric of Briar’s sleeves aggressively flopped as she frantically waved her hands in denial (and surrender). “No, nothing like that! I meant that I didn’t return his advances for the purpose of ruining your engagement.”

“Yes…?” Theresa blinks, trying to process the information. What was happening, exactly?

Briar sighs, deciding that she couldn’t avoid telling Miss Sutton about her life back at their quiet village. “At Grovershire, I was very much a ‘one of the boys’ type. I was always loud and restless, so I liked to run around town during my morning errands. I’d come back with bread and vegetables, but also mud stains on the hem of my skirts…”

“Sometimes, even on my face,” Briar shot a wink at Miss Sutton, which made the lady laugh.

The maid grins inwardly in satisfaction. “I would often climb up one of the trees at the edge of town and read a book I nicked from my father’s study. And I’d break my way into my mother’s alcohol stash routinely.” She pauses for a moment, before continuing, “So I suppose they didn’t see me as a woman. It was part of the reason I came with Clara to Edgewater.”

Her eyes suddenly widen at the information she just divulged to the loose-lipped noblewoman, “Oh! Please don’t tell her though! I’d hate to worry her more than I have to.”

Miss Sutton solemnly nods, and though Clara would be wary of her, Briar felt that she really wouldn’t speak of it.

So, she continues.

“I didn’t think that I would ever get married. So I thought, why not stay with my best friend, who was now without her mother, and suddenly thrust into the cutthroat world of nobles?”

Briar took a deep breath before speaking again.

(This was where it was going to hurt.)

“I think that… I got swept away by the feeling of a man taking a liking to me. I suppose it made me feel like I’d succeeded as a woman.”

And then, everything was still.

They sat in silence for what felt like an eternity. Briar was keen on avoiding meeting with Miss Sutton’s eyes for as long as she could keep it up. That was, before the lady gently clasped both of her hands around one of Briar’s. Her expression was filled with nothing but understanding and… was camaraderie the right word for it?

Briar couldn’t really think.

“You needn’t worry. I doubt our theoretical marriage would have lasted, anyway,” Theresa resigned. She’d known at the exact moment Countess Henrietta accepted her proposal for her son.

Absently, she played with Briar’s calloused fingers that were still in her grasp. “I suppose, much like you, I was too thrilled at the prospect of finally having a man that accepted me.”

She tightens her grip, with her lips pursed in a tight line. “Or more accurately, my marriage proposal.”

Studying the other woman, Miss Sutton could see that aside from being kind and sweet, Briar Daly was also very pretty. Dark and full eyebrows, expressive eyes, a dashing side-profile, and long black hair (currently wrapped into a tight bun) — which was so thick and full that some strands couldn’t help but stray to the Indian woman’s face.

Theresa didn’t know what came over her, but she reached out a hand to play with a lock resting limply against Briar’s neck.

“I can see why Mr. Marlcaster took a liking to you.” Briar, who was spaced out at the feeling of Miss Sutton’s soft fingers pressing on her own, had regained enough conscious thought to blush, “Oh… uhm… well, I don’t know about that. I think he only took a liking to me because you two were so incompatible with each other.”

Theresa couldn’t help but be amused at the woman’s bluntness. She places a hand on her chest, pretending to have been shot with an arrow, theatrically wincing, “My word, Briar! You wound me.”

Briar chuckled, pleased to see that Miss Sutton was now relaxed enough to even joke with her. “It’s clearly Mr. Marlcaster’s loss anyway! He would be surprised to find that you’re actually very charming, if he was smart enough to look past your extreme penchant for gossip,” she affectionately teases Theresa.

The noblewoman blushes prettily with a grin, lightly hitting Briar’s arm with her fan. “Hush, you. Parties are dreadfully boring without gossip, because all that everyone talks about is politics, this new exotic thing they bought, or who’s now signalling their fan at who.”

For a heartbeat, they simply sit in each other’s company.

Before Miss Sutton stands up and briskly pats off any dirt on her skirts. She immediately answers the look Briar just shot at her.

(She somewhat resembled a domestic fox that just had food taken from her.)

“I should be getting back in and at least try to pique some random bachelor’s interest. Father’s already going to be disappointed with me once I head home tonight. Might as well have something in consolation.”

Miss Sutton seriously studies Briar’s face for a moment, seemingly searching for something –

(Briar anxiously hoped she had whatever she was looking for)

– before Theresa places a chaste kiss on her cheek.

“Thank you, Briar.”

It was practically nothing at all: a quick touch of skin and lips and no more.

But to Briar, in that moment, that peck on the cheek from Theresa Sutton felt like everything.

_“Puffy!”_ Briar manages to choke out from her stupor, gently grasping Miss Sutton’s gloved wrist.

Theresa’s confusion was evident, “Pardon?”

Briar could feel her cheeks burning from her sudden outburst, “Uhm, your eyes are still a bit puffy.”

Theresa’s eyes widened, prompting her to bring her hands to her cheeks in embarrassment. “Oh, well… I suppose I’ll have to wait out here for it to subside before heading back in. It would be most unbecoming,” Miss Sutton chuckles weakly, trying to joke away the stuffiness. She stood lightly slouched and slack, with an evident air of resignation about her.

“I very much need to salvage as much dignity as I have left.”

“Well, you could do that…” Briar trails off, looking away from the lady. The handmaiden was clearly unsure of her next words. Miss Sutton keeps her gaze trained on Briar, waiting patiently for her to finish. Their eyes meet when Briar glances back at her, blushing harder and dropping her eyes to her shoes.

Briar slowly slides her hold down from Miss Sutton’s wrist, gently grasping the lady’s fingertips, much like a gentleman would before he kissed them in proper greeting.

“…Or you could take a walk in the gardens. With me. If you like.”

Briar could _feel_ Miss Sutton’s eyes widen.

(In surprise? In disgust? In delight?

— Briar found that she was afraid to know.)

“T-The Duke’s a rotten man!” Briar adds quickly, and she isn’t sure why. “But he has a beautiful garden.”

She rocks back and forth on her heels, to expel some of the developing tension in her body.

“So, uhm… how about it?” Miss Sutton takes a few moments to answer her, keenly staring at Briar’s flustered form, like she was attempting to search for her true intentions within them.

(And she found that she did. At least, she hoped so.)

Theresa smiles, and manoeuvres her hand — still in Briar’s grasp — down to gently hold on to Briar’s bicep.

“I accept.” Briar lights up; her eyes sparkled with elation. Almost too excited, she starts to pull them to the direction of the greenery, almost making them stumble. “All right then, let’s go, Miss Sutton! I haven’t been here before so there’s lots to see.”

The noblewoman smiles at her companion’s enthusiasm. “Please,” Miss Sutton brings her free hand to lightly rest on Briar’s shoulder. The touch effectively stilled Briar, making their gazes connect.

It felt warm, despite the cold of the evening.

“Call me Tessa,” she smiles radiantly under the moonlight.

\--

_“Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask, but why are you wearing a staff uniform?”_

_“… It was the only way I could get in.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! Shoot me a message if you'd like to talk.
> 
> Twitter: @seungwanderlust  
> Tumblr: i-beg-your-parsons


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